


New Beginnings

by MyOwnSuperintendent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Cat x Ned Week Two, F/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSuperintendent/pseuds/MyOwnSuperintendent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early years of their marriage, Ned and Catelyn attempt to find their way back towards each other after some difficulties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Old Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the second Cat x Ned week on tumblr.  
> I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or anything related to it. Hope you enjoy!

Every time he went to the Godswood, Ned Stark found himself praying certain prayers. He always prayed for those he had lost, of course—for his father and brother, for the sister whom they had been unable to save. He prayed, too, for those who remained to him. Benjen was gone to the Wall now; Ned knew it was a noble thing to do, but the safety of the one sibling who remained to him was always in his mind when he prayed. He prayed for the health of his sons, both of them just past two years old now: for Robb who looked so like his mother and for Jon who looked so like his own, not that that secret could ever be shared.

He prayed for the well-being of his wife too, but that was not the only prayer he said when it came to Catelyn. There was another prayer, one that he had said often enough in the months after his return from the rebellion. In more recent months, he had thought that perhaps… but no, now it had crept in again. _Please let her forgive me._

It was all his own fault, he knew, and if she did not forgive him he had no one but himself to blame. And it would not happen solely by praying. He would have to show her that he had never meant…but how could he do that without saying too much? He shook his head, trying not to picture the scene, but it was no use. It was in his mind all too clearly: Catelyn lying there in bed, the question about Jon which she had likely meant innocently enough. He could hear the harshness in his own voice when he told her not to speak of it again, and he could see the way her blue eyes widened with…with fear. Yes, it had been fear. He would not pretend to himself that he had not frightened her. No matter that he had had to warn her off the subject forever, it was still a poor way to treat one’s lady wife.

And now…well, now things were like they had been in the first months again. Catelyn was always perfectly courteous to him; they talked of Robb and of the running of Winterfell, and they still lay together at night. She would not neglect what she believed to be her duty, and that was one of the many things he had come to like about her, that she took such matters as seriously as he did. But even Catelyn could only go so far, and everything beyond that was gone. When they lay together, they no longer talked afterwards in the way they’d begun to do in the past few months. She no longer smiled at him and laid her head on his chest, and he caught no glimpses in her face of the pleasure that he’d once dared to hope his touch brought her. There was a part of Ned that wanted to pull her to him and kiss her over and over, to tell her that he, at least, found a great deal of pleasure in their bedding, to sleep the night holding her and to wake to see that beautiful red hair spread over the pillow. But he would not do any of those things. There were so many ways in which he couldn’t be the husband that Catelyn deserved, but he could at least refrain from trying to force an intimacy that she no longer wanted. Especially when it was all his own fault.

But it was bitter, just the same. Sometimes he thought that he wanted nothing more in the world than to make things just that bit easier between them again. He wanted it for himself, and he wanted it for Catelyn too; she should not have to feel frightened or disrespected by him. But whenever he tried to think of how he might do it—of words that he might say to her—he found himself coming up empty.

So he prayed in the Godswood, but when he rose from before the heart tree he did not feel fully satisfied.

There was no answer when he knocked at the door to Catelyn’s chambers that night. Perhaps she was already asleep, he thought. _Or perhaps she does not want to see me._ He did not think the second explanation particularly likely—based on everything that he knew of her, he thought that Catelyn would answer the door regardless of her feelings—but the thought still made him feel gloomy. As he turned to go, however, he heard a voice behind him. “My lord?”

He turned to face Catelyn. “My lady,” he said. “I thought that perhaps you were asleep.”

She shook her head. “No, my lord. I was with Robb. He did not wish to go to sleep tonight.” She sighed. “But I am here now, in any case. Will you come in, my lord?” He nodded and followed her into the bedchamber.

She was so very beautiful. When they lay together—when her hair was tousled and her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed, when their bodies were pressed close against each other, when he could tell from the sound of her breathing that their coupling pleased her at least physically—Ned could almost pretend that things had not gone wrong between them. He could almost tell himself that he was the husband Catelyn wanted, that theirs was a marriage not solely of duty, that they would spend many happy years together.

But when they had finished, when she rolled to her side without any half-tender words, he could tell himself no such thing. “Good night, my lady,” he said, making his voice as gentle as he could, and then he rose and dressed and returned alone to his own room.


	2. Snow

Catelyn was tired of the snow. She had never known weather like this in the Riverlands, with snow that fell so heavily and frequently. Her husband claimed that the snow was lessening, that it seemed as though spring might arrive soon, but Catelyn herself saw no signs of such a thing. It had snowed just this morning, in fact, and the courtyard was covered as thickly as it ever was.

Robb wasn’t tired of the snow, though. Her son always wanted to be outside playing in it; she sometimes worried that he might catch a chill, but in truth he did not seem to be bothered by the cold as she was. It made sense, she supposed. For all that he had been born at Riverrun, he surely had no memory of it, and the North and the cold were all that he had ever known.

And now that this morning’s snow had stopped falling, Robb was as insistent as ever about going outside. “Snow, snow, snow,” he was chanting. “Mama, can we go outside and play? Please? Please? Look! Snow!”

Catelyn herself would have been content to stay inside by the fire, but she didn’t have the heart to refuse Robb when he was this enthusiastic. “Yes, sweetling, we can go outside,” she said. “But we have to dress for it first.”

She helped Robb on with his cloak, gloves, and boots, and he bounced up and down excitedly as she put on her own. After pulling her hood tightly around her face, she drew on her gloves and reached out to take Robb’s hand. “All right, sweetling, I’m ready,” she said. “Shall we go out?”

“Yes!” Robb exclaimed, and they headed out of the keep together.

Once outside, Robb began to run across the courtyard. He couldn’t move very fast with the snow, and he tumbled down more than once, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He just laughed, rolling about, and Catelyn couldn’t help laughing with him. It made her glad to see that her son was so at home with the snow and the cold. She felt that it meant, in some way, that he was a true Stark, that he belonged here at Winterfell.

Thinking on such things made her turn sober. It sometimes felt as though Robb were all that she had to hold on to, as though he were the only thing that gave her a place here. That wasn’t fully true, she knew. She had been at Winterfell for nearly two years now; she had always done her utmost to be the lady the place needed, and she believed that people respected her for it. And, if she were honest with herself, she would have to say that Ned respected her too, at least in most ways. He treated her courteously, and he made sure that she had everything she needed, and he came to her bed often, and he was clearly very proud of their son.

But there was still the one way in which he did not respect her at all, and it made her angry and hurt to think of it. There was no way that she could ignore it, though, and perhaps that was the worst part of it all—the way that the bastard was always there. She considered it lucky that he wasn’t out here with them now; Robb loved his company, and when it snowed they were usually outside together, making lopsided snowballs and laughing. It was at such moments that she most had to remind herself that Robb was a true Stark, when she saw the other boy with the face that looked so like Ned’s. The sight of that face told her clearly that for all his courtesy and his general kindness, Ned did not truly respect her. Not in the way he ought.

She thought, once again, of that night, some weeks ago now. Ned had shouted at her, his voice raised in a way that she’d never before heard, a way that had frightened her—just because she’d asked who the bastard’s mother was. And she didn’t even know why she’d asked. Well, yes, she did know, even if she didn’t like to admit it to herself. Now, after it had happened, she didn’t know how she felt towards Ned—if she was angry or sorrowful or any other number of complicated, confusing emotions—but she’d known well enough in the months before. What she had felt for him had been affection; she’d come to care for his company and his touch. And from the way he talked to her and, perhaps more importantly, from the way he sometimes looked, she’d begun to think that he might feel some affection for her as well. That was why she’d asked, really: she’d wanted to know who else might have a place in his heart.

Of course, she’d been stupid to think that she herself held such a place. If the way he had shouted hadn’t shown her that, the way he’d behaved over the following weeks certainly would have. When he came to her bed now, he no longer stayed to talk with her as he had once done. He rose and left almost the moment they were finished, and the idea of anything the slightest bit tender passing between them seemed foolish now. There were times when Catelyn wanted to try—to lay her head on his chest afterwards, perhaps, and to ask him to stay just a bit longer—but she always found herself too frightened to go through with it. He clearly did not wish for such things anymore, and she remembered the shouting.

No, she had been wrong. Ned tried to be a good husband to her, she knew, and he treated her well in everything except the one matter, and that was not such a terrible thing. But when she’d hoped that there might be affection and found that there was none—well, it made it more difficult to be satisfied with courtesy.

“My lady.” She turned around to see the man who had been in her thoughts.

“My lord,” she said. “Hello.”

“I…is it not too cold for you out here?” he asked.

In truth, she was beginning to feel rather chilly, but Catelyn shook her head. “I am a bit cold, my lord, but I am well enough. And Robb wanted to play.”

Robb came running up to them then. “Papa!” he shouted. “Are you going to play with us?”

Ned scooped their son up into his arms, smiling at him in such a way that Catelyn felt sure that there was affection there, at least. The thought was comforting. “Indeed I shall,” he said. “What would you like to play?”

“Build a snowman,” Robb said.

“Then that is what we shall do,” Ned said. He set Robb down on the ground again, and then he knelt down beside him, beginning to gather snow into a ball.

Catelyn crouched beside the two of them as well. “What shall we make this snowman look like?” she asked.

Robb seemed to be considering; he looked very serious for a boy of two. Then he smiled. “Let’s make him a wolf!” he said. “A direwolf!”

“Why, that’s an excellent idea,” Catelyn said.

“Our boy is certainly a Stark,” Ned said, and Catelyn smiled at the words.

It was harder to make a wolf out of snow than one might think, but at last the three of them managed to produce something at least somewhat recognizable. There was a ball of snow for the body and one for the head and two pointed ears on top, and Robb seemed very pleased. “Look at my wolf!”

“It’s a fine wolf,” Catelyn said. “And it was a very good idea. And now, perhaps, it is time to go inside.” Robb pulled a face at that, and when she reached for his hand, he darted away. Sighing, Catelyn lifted herself up from the ground and started in pursuit.

When she had caught Robb and told him that he was to mind her, and he had mumbled, “Yes, Mama,” and taken her hand, they started back towards Ned, who had remained next to the snow direwolf. He seemed to be building something else. “What are you making, Papa?” Robb asked when they reached his side.

Ned drew back to allow them to look. “Can you tell?”

Robb stared for a moment and then shook his head, but Catelyn knew. It was as crude as the direwolf, but she could see what the shapes were meant to be. The largest mound of snow was the body, and the smaller one at the end was the tail, and the other small one at the top—why, it was a fin, of course.

“It’s a fish,” she said.

Ned nodded. “Aye,” he said. “A trout.” He seemed almost shy. “I thought…well, it seemed only right to have both.”

“A fish,” Robb repeated. “Like…like your family, Mama?”

“Yes, that is exactly right,” Catelyn said. “And now it really is time to go inside.”

The three of them walked in together, Robb clinging to her hand. “It seems funny,” she said, “to see a trout in the snow. I don’t think of snow when I think of Riverrun. We never had nearly this much.”

“You never built snow wolves and fish, then,” Ned said.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, not once. We had very different games.” She glanced down at Robb. “It’s strange to think that his childhood will be so different from my own. He won’t know what it’s like to swim in the rivers.”

Ned was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Perhaps when he gets older, we may take him to visit. If that would…if you would like that.”

“I would,” Catelyn said. “I would like that very much, my lord. Not that I think he is in any danger of being unhappy here,” she added quickly. “I do not know much of snow games, but I am getting to like them myself. Especially when a surprise trout turns up.”

“I am glad,” Ned said, and his hand brushed her free one.

The touch surprised her at first, unexpected as it was, but she couldn’t deny that it pleased her. Perhaps he did not have the affection for her that she had hoped, but it did seem that he wanted to make her happy. He had made the snow trout, and he had suggested that they visit her home someday, and now he was trying to take her hand when there was certainly no reason that he had to do so. Perhaps, even if his bastard’s mother held his heart, he was sorry for how he had shouted at Catelyn, and perhaps he was trying to show her that.

She still did not know how she felt about it all. But she clasped his hand in hers.


	3. Holiday

The news had come only that morning. Maester Luwin had been the first to learn of it, through the arrival of the raven, and he had quickly told Ned. It was spring.

Admittedly, there was still plenty of snow on the ground, but Ned wasn’t surprised at the news. It had been getting warmer in the past weeks and months; the snows weren’t as heavy as they had been, and he’d been able to set aside his thickest cloak. Of course, not everyone saw the weather in the same way: he’d told Catelyn earlier this week that he thought it might be spring any day now, and she’d looked at him with a smile that suggested that she very much doubted it.

At least he had made her smile, though. There were moments when Ned thought that things between the two of them might be moving, however slightly, back towards how they had once been: moments when they talked and spent time together, often with Robb. There was still much distance to travel, though, and any little sign that she might be closer to forgiving him—when she smiled or laughed or reached out to touch him—had become something important.

He would think about all this later, though. Right now, he had to respond to the news of spring. Everyone in Winterfell would want to know of it, and they would all want to give their thanks. It was a northern tradition for people to go to the godswood when spring began, to give thanks to the gods for seeing them safely through the winter. While prayer was usually something private, it wasn’t uncommon to see groups kneeling before the heart tree together on such a day, nor to see as many smiling faces as solemn ones. Even those who were used to northern winters were always glad of the coming of spring. Perhaps they could have a feast tonight, Ned thought; he was sure that everyone would like that as well. He would speak to Vayon about it and make sure that everyone in the castle heard the tidings brought by the raven. And then he would go to the godswood himself, to give his own thanks, and he would take the boys with him.

The news spread through Winterfell quickly; as Ned walked out into the courtyard an hour and a half later, with one boy on either side of him, he saw many others doing the same. A group of servant girls were walking arm in arm, laughing and chattering together. Several men-at-arms walked in a group as well, looking every bit as pleased. And Robb seemed very pleased too; he loved the snow, but at his age anything new was exciting to him. “Spring!” he exclaimed, jumping up and down at Ned’s side. “It’s spring, Papa!”

“Indeed it is, my boy,” Ned said, smiling down at his son. “And we are all very glad of that.” He turned to Jon, who had remained quiet as he often did. “Are you glad of the spring as well, Jon?”

Jon nodded. “Yes,” he said, his face breaking into a small smile, and Ned smiled back at him.

“My lord?” It was his wife’s voice, and Ned turned around to see Catelyn standing behind him, the expression on her face a bit confused.

“My lady,” he replied. “Is there anything the matter?”

“No, nothing is the matter,” Catelyn said. “It is only…what is going on? I know it is spring, of course,” she added quickly, “but where is everyone going?”

He had forgotten; of course Catelyn would have no way of knowing about the tradition. “We are all going to the godswood, my lady,” he said, “to thank the gods for seeing us safely through the winter.” He wondered if he should ask her to come with them. Robb was already reaching out for her hand, and he himself would welcome her company. But the old gods were not her gods, and he did not wish to make her feel uncomfortable, and she would doubtless dislike having Jon with them too. He knew that she cared deeply about being a proper lady of Winterfell, and he would not have her think that she had to do this to fill the role.

“You need not come with us, my lady,” he said, just as Catelyn said, “Might I come along?”

There was a silence then, and Catelyn was the one to break it. “Of course, my lord,” she said. “The godswood is not my place. I…I shall see you afterwards.”

Ned could see in her face that she was hurt, and he could have cursed himself for it. The last thing he wished was to make her think that she was not welcome, to make her feel, yet again, that he wished to shut her out of his life. Nothing could have been further from the truth, and Ned scrambled for the words to say that.  

“I…no!” he managed. “No, my lady. It is your place.” She only looked at him then, and he tried to think of more words, of the best way to explain what he wanted to say. “I mean…it is your place if you wish it to be. I only meant…you keep the Seven, my lady, and I would not disrespect that…you need not come if you do not wish…”

“But if I do wish?” she asked quietly.

“Then I…we…should be very glad to have you with us,” Ned said. And when Catelyn smiled and fell into step with him, he decided that the difficulty of explaining what he meant had been worth it.

He had planned to explain the tradition to the boys anyway, and now he included Catelyn in the explanation. She nodded as he spoke, and he found himself paying far more attention to her quiet smiles than to Robb’s shouts of excitement when he told of the plans for a feast that evening. They reached the godswood soon enough, in company with many others; Ser Rodrik stood close to the heart tree, but he made way respectfully as they approached. Ned nodded to him before kneeling in front of the tree, and the boys, young as they were, knew that they should kneel as well. He was aware of Catelyn standing slightly back from them as he began to pray, to thank the gods for the coming of spring. While he was there, he went on to his usual prayers, thinking of his family, asking that the two small boys beside him might continue to be well. And he offered up his thanks for Catelyn’s presence with them here and now, hoping that it was a sign that she might, someday, forgive him.

They were all quiet as they walked back towards the keep. Jon was usually so, of course, and tended to be even more so in Catelyn’s presence, but even Robb, who was generally far more boisterous, seemed to be affected by kneeling before the heart tree. “Is spring very serious?” he asked.

Ned couldn’t help laughing at that. He had often told Robb that it was important to be very serious in the godswood, and that must be where he had gotten the idea. “No, Robb. We go to the godswood to give our thanks, but spring is a joyous time. You’ll see at the feast tonight. And soon you’ll see that it will be warmer outside, and that is a very good thing for the plants and the animals.”

“And I think I shall like it too,” Catelyn said.

“I hope you shall, my lady,” Ned said. _I very much want you to be happy here._

She certainly seemed happy at the feast that night. He knew that she disliked the cold, and he knew that he was no Brandon, and he knew that he had hurt her when it came to Jon, but sometimes he wondered whether Catelyn had yet more reasons to be unhappy at Winterfell. She loved company, he could tell, and they had so little occasion for it here, isolated as they were. If she had married a southron lord, she would doubtless have gone more places and met more people; Ned loved Winterfell, of course, but Catelyn hadn’t been born here and if she did find it dull, perhaps that was understandable. Ned sighed and tried to push these thoughts out of his head. If Catelyn found Winterfell too isolated, that was something he could do nothing about; perhaps it would be best to concentrate on his own behavior and on the things he could change. At any rate, he shouldn’t be in such a dour mood tonight. It was spring, after all, and Catelyn did seem to be enjoying herself.

She leaned towards him and smiled. “Do you always have a feast when the spring comes?”

“No, not always,” he said. “It is the tradition for everyone to go to the godswood to give thanks. But the feast…I just thought that perhaps people would enjoy such a thing.”

“It is nice,” Catelyn said. “It is good to do something to celebrate, I think, no matter what it is. I remember one time when spring came, when I was a girl, and Maester Vyman let us off lessons and we all ran down to the river.” The expression on her face was almost dreamy. “We had such fun that day.”

“I think the…I think Robb is enjoying today too,” Ned said, glancing over at their son. He had almost said _the boys_ , as both Robb and Jon were smiling as Old Nan told them what was doubtless some fearsome tale, and he was glad that he had caught himself in time. He did not wish to ruin this moment with Catelyn.

“I think so too,” Catelyn said. “He likes the excitement. And this is quite the feast.” She began to turn back to her plate then, and Ned tried to think of what he might say to keep the conversation going.

“Did you celebrate the spring like this in Riverrun as well?” he asked.

Catelyn nodded. “Oh, yes. We always celebrated the coming of the spring and summer. And we had feasts, too, for the holidays of the Faith.”

“I remember some of those,” Ned said. “From the Eyrie.”

“Oh, of course!” Catelyn said. She was smiling again, and Ned wanted to keep that smile on her face. “Then you know what it was like.”

“I must confess that I am no expert, my lady,” Ned said. “I remember more of the feasts than of the reasons behind them, I am afraid.”

“That is quite understandable,” Catelyn said. “You do not keep the Seven, after all, any more than I keep your gods.” She was quiet for a moment, fidgeting with the sleeve of her gown. “I…I could tell you about some of the holidays, sometime. I had thought that I might teach Robb and…and any other children we may have…and perhaps Robb and I could do something small to celebrate…and if you should like to be part of them, of course you might.” She paused and looked at him, seemingly unsure how he would take her words, and then hurried on. “I only ask because I was glad to be a part of your holiday today. And I would like to tell you about mine if…if you would like.”

_She must be missing her home_ , Ned thought, _missing her own traditions._ If he had had any objections to Catelyn’s proposal—and he certainly did not—that thought would have silenced them. If joining in her traditions this way would make her happier, would help her make a life here and show her that he wanted her to be a part of his, there was no question in his mind about the right thing to do. “I would like that,” he said, “very much.”

Her smile was very full then, and they talked more that evening than they had in a long time. Old Nan took the boys off to bed at some point, and Ned and Catelyn stopped to look in at the nursery when they finally went upstairs themselves. Catelyn stood beside Robb’s bed, straightening his blankets, while Ned took a quick look at Jon. The boy was sleeping peacefully, and Ned ran a hand over the dark hair before joining Catelyn at Robb’s side. She bent to kiss Robb’s forehead, and the sight of them together seemed as wonderful to Ned as it always did. He thought of what she had said earlier, about the other children they might have, and he found himself hoping that such a day might come soon.

He tried to show her, when he lay with her that night, that she mattered to him very much. And when he rose to go afterwards, there was a sweetness in her voice as she said, “Good night, Ned,” that made him hope that he had shown her at least a bit.


	4. New Year

The sun was setting; the evening was coming. There were only about six more hours left in the day, and then it would be a new year.

There were always questions about what a new year would bring, but tonight most of Catelyn’s thoughts were centered on one thing. In seven moons, if all went well, she would have another babe. Now that she was certain that she was with child, she often found herself wondering what the babe might be like, imagining all the different babes who might be hers. And although she did have certain wishes— _if I could give Ned a son with the Stark look_ —all of her imaginings brought her joy. _Another babe. Ned and I made another babe._

They were to have a feast for the new year tonight, and, although she usually enjoyed such things, Catelyn hoped that it wouldn’t last too long. She wanted to speak with Ned alone; she hadn’t yet told him of the babe. She’d wanted to wait until she was certain to share the news, but now that she had missed two moon bloods and had spoken to Maester Luwin, there was no reason to wait any longer.

She wondered what Ned would say. She was certain that he would be pleased: he adored Robb, after all, and she was sure that he would be glad of another child. And yet...well, for some unaccountable reason, she felt nervous.

 _There you go, lying to yourself again_ , Catelyn thought. She knew why she was nervous. She was still unsure where she stood with Ned, and now, with this babe coming, she so desperately wanted things to be better between them.

In the past weeks, it had so often seemed like things were. She remembered the day when spring had come, and she smiled at the thought: the way Ned had welcomed her company in the godswood, his warm response when she had asked if he might like to learn more about her own faith, the way they had talked together all the evening. And in the weeks since, whenever she came to ask him about some household matter, it seemed as though he sought to keep her there in conversation longer, asking her questions that had little to do with the topic at hand. While he still did not spend the night in her chambers, they certainly talked more when he paid his visits, and he certainly had not shouted at her again, and sometimes it seemed…Catelyn told herself not to think this way. She had believed, before, that there was affection between them, and she had been proven wrong about that; there was no reason for her to start believing it again now. She would only be disappointed all over again.

Catelyn couldn’t help hoping, though. _If only I could know for certain_ , she thought, _if only I could ask Ned, or if he would tell me…_ But she couldn’t imagine how such a conversation would go.

There was a knock on her door then, and Catelyn pushed the thoughts out of her mind. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened, and Ned walked into the room. “Are you ready to go down to dinner, my lady?” he asked.

Catelyn nodded. “Yes, my lord.” Ned gave her his arm then, and she walked downstairs with him, determined to enjoy the feast whatever hopes and fears she might have.

The evening seemed to go by slowly, but it was finished at last. Ned walked her back up to her chambers, pausing on the threshold as if waiting for her invitation. “Please do come in, Ned,” she said. “I would like to talk to you.” Was it just her imagination, or was there pleasure in his face as he nodded and followed her in?

Catelyn took a seat on the bed, and Ned sat down beside her. “Did you wish to talk about something in particular, my lady?” he asked.

Catelyn nodded. “Yes, there is something. I have some good news, Ned. I’m with child.”

Ned truly smiled at her then. “Oh, Catelyn, that is good news indeed.” He reached out to take her hands in his. “Is everything well?”

“Everything is very well,” Catelyn said. “I have talked to Maester Luwin, and he says that I am in good health. I am about two moons gone.”

“When did you find out?” he asked.

“I have only been certain these few days,” Catelyn said. “I suspected before that, but I didn’t want to tell you before I was certain.”

“I am glad you have told me now,” Ned said. And then, almost before she knew what he was about, he leaned in and kissed her. It was not a chaste kiss, either; he had only ever kissed her in this way when they were in bed together. Surprised as she was, though, Catelyn certainly didn’t object. The kiss made her feel hopeful and warm inside, and she kissed him back just as firmly.

When they broke apart, she looked at Ned and saw that he blushed. “I…Cat…I just…I am so very pleased about the babe.” Catelyn didn’t know what to think—he might indeed be pleased about the babe, but surely that couldn’t be the only explanation for such a kiss—and she stared at Ned, hoping that he would say something that would explain just where they stood with each other, that would answer all the questions that had tormented her for weeks. He opened his mouth again, but no words came out; he seemed utterly tongue-tied.

 _Perhaps…perhaps he is just as nervous as I am_ , Catelyn thought. She worried that she might only be telling herself what she wanted to hear, that she might be pretending that Ned had a place for her in his heart when he was only worried about sparing her feelings. But worry about sparing her feelings couldn’t have prompted such a kiss, she thought, and she couldn’t deny that in these past weeks, Ned had been nearly as affectionate with her as he had ever been. And if he hadn’t spent the nights beside her, why, she had never asked him to; perhaps he thought that she did not wish…Perhaps she could not expect Ned to tell her what she wanted to know if she was afraid to speak herself.

She would need to choose her words with care. “There is something else I have been thinking of, Ned,” she said.

“Yes?” Ned said. He looked glad of the change in subject.

“Well…we are going to have a new babe. And it is a new year as well. And I thought, well, perhaps…” She still feared bringing up something painful, starting yet more tension between them. Yet she needed to be honest, Catelyn knew; there was no point in speaking otherwise. “Ned, I…it has been some weeks now—”

“I know,” Ned said. “I understand, Catelyn. I have hurt you.”

“No!” she said. “I mean, yes, you did…you did frighten me.” He looked disgusted with himself then, and Catelyn made herself press on with her words. “I will not pretend I was not hurt, Ned, but…but that is not the only thing that has ever happened between us! You have been very good to me, Ned, only…since then, it seems that we…we are afraid to be close.”   She knew as she spoke the words that they were true, at least for herself. Angry as she had been at first, she had soon missed the closeness that she and Ned had come to find; it was only fear of how he might react that had kept her from trying before. “And I thought perhaps you did not wish to be close and perhaps at first I did not wish it either but…but it is a new year, Ned, and we are going to have a new babe, and perhaps…perhaps we might begin anew as well.” He didn’t answer her, and she didn’t like the silence. “We are man and wife, Ned, and I think we ought to try, at least. I should like to. Should you like to as well?”

Ned still didn’t speak, but his arms went around her, and his kiss was every bit as fierce as the last one had been. “I should like to,” he whispered against her cheek, and then they were kissing again and yet again.

His hands moved to the laces of her gown and then suddenly stilled. “Is it all right?”

“Of course!” Catelyn said, and her voice sounded so eager to her own ears that she worried what Ned might think of her.

He only smiled at her, though, and kissed her again, gently. “I meant with the babe.”

“Oh,” Catelyn said. “Oh, yes. Maester Luwin said that it was safe…Yes.”

“I am glad,” Ned said, kissing her again as he began to undo her laces, and she reached to undress him as well.

Their coupling that night was as hungry as it had ever been. Ned seemed intent on pleasing her, and there were moments when Catelyn felt as though she could barely draw breath. He sighed out her name as they moved together, and she liked that nearly as much as his touch—that proof that she was in his thoughts. When they had both reached their pleasure, they were quiet for a moment, and then they spoke at once.

“Would you stay tonight?”

“Might I stay with you?”

There was hardly any need for an answer—not with the way Ned was smiling at her—but Catelyn said quietly, “Of course you might, Ned.” Then she laid her head on his chest, and, as his hands began to move through her hair, she felt more content than she had in a long time.


	5. The Seven

Ned was not usually one to act on sudden impulses, but he knew that this idea was a good one. He had been praying in the godswood and had ended his prayers, as he always did these days, by asking that Catelyn and their unborn child might continue safe and healthy. This had led him, naturally enough, to thoughts of Catelyn and the babe in general, and he had remembered her words on the first day of spring. She had spoken of her own faith then, of the way she planned to pass on her traditions to Robb and to any other children they might have. The Seven were every bit as important to Catelyn as the old gods were to him, Ned knew; she had already begun to teach Robb about them, as young as he was. It was as Ned thought about this, standing in the godswood where he practiced his own faith, that the idea came to him.

He spoke to Vayon about it that very afternoon, and they agreed that it could be done quickly enough. They had much of what was needed—it was but a matter of sending for the glass and then the construction. A few men would be sufficient for that, and then there it would be. A sept in the grounds of Winterfell. A sept where his wife could pray.

Ned was glad that it would take so little time. He wanted Catelyn to have her sept as soon as possible, but even that was only part of it. The other part was a bit more selfish: he had decided that this would be a surprise, and he did not like having secrets from Catelyn. There was already the one big secret, and he did not want to add any more, especially when things were better between them than they had ever been. Catelyn had been braver than he when she had asked him if they might begin anew together. It had seemed almost incredible that she wanted such a thing—when he himself wanted it so much—but nevertheless it was true. He slept beside her nearly every night now, and they talked together in an easy way. Thinking of her made him happier than he had been since before the rebellion, and he could only hope that she was as happy. The last thing that he wanted was to make her think that he was keeping something else from her. If he could keep her from suspecting that there was a secret, he would probably do well enough; if not, though, he would have a bit more trouble. He was not very good at keeping secrets.

After a few days, though, Ned felt more secure. He talked to Catelyn of other subjects, just as he always did, and she didn’t seem to suspect anything. And of course, there were many moments when they were not making conversation. Catelyn seemed to want to lie together more than ever these days, and Ned was certainly not going to object to that. As far as he was concerned, being with child made her yet more beautiful; he loved the growing curves of her body and the way that her face shone. And they had this new happiness to share, and that made the nights they spent together yet more sweet.

Ned wound up letting his guard down, though. The glass for the sept arrived one afternoon, and he was very pleased; it would be ready quite soon now. He didn’t think that his pleasure showed in his face, but apparently he was wrong. When he came to her chambers that night, Catelyn asked him, “What have you been so cheerful about all evening?”

Her voice was playful enough, but the words nearly sent Ned into a panic. He had no idea what to say. “I…have not been cheerful,” was what he eventually managed.

Catelyn furrowed her brow. “Yes, you have, Ned. You’ve been…perhaps not quite smiling to yourself…but there’s been something in your eyes. What is it?”

“I don’t know what you are speaking of,” Ned said. The sept would be ready so soon. Was it all to be spoiled now?

Catelyn was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was more hurt than playful. “I did not mean to pry, Ned,” she said. “But if there is something that you do not wish to share with me, perhaps you could just say so.” She looked away from him, beginning to turn down the covers on the bed, and Ned wondered how he had managed to mishandle things yet again.

“I…it is not something that I do not wish to share with you,” he said, and when she turned and looked at him doubtfully, he stumbled on with his words. “I mean, yes, it is. But it is nothing bad, Cat.” There was still hurt in her blue eyes. “I swear, Cat, whatever you are thinking, it is nothing like that.”

“How do you know what I am thinking?”

“I don’t, but…it is…it is a surprise!” he said.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to burst out with it like that, but in a moment he was glad he had. Any hurt disappeared from her eyes, and she crossed the room to take his hands. “A surprise?” she asked. And when he nodded, she added, “Is it something for me, Ned?”

“Yes,” he said, “but please do not ask me any more questions, Cat.”

“Of course I shall not,” Catelyn said, and then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I would not spoil a surprise, Ned. And it is so very sweet of you, to think of a surprise for me. It is a nice surprise just to know that…that there is a surprise.” She was smiling. “When will I find out what it is?”

“You said that you would not ask any more questions,” Ned reminded her. “You are as bad as Robb.” Their son had recently taken to asking all sorts of questions about everything under the sun and to never being satisfied with the answers.

Catelyn laughed. “Such harsh words, my lord! But you are right, I did promise. I will try to be more patient.” She leaned closer to him again. “Will you give me something else now, though? To distract me while I wait?”

Her hips were pressed against his now, and Ned pulled her tightly into his arms. “Were you thinking of something in particular?”

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, and then she kissed him, and there were no more questions about surprises.

 

Robb had been running wild all afternoon, but Catelyn had finally got him to settle for a nap. He was becoming ever more reluctant to do so, and Catelyn thought it likely that it wouldn’t be long before he stopped entirely. _Just in time for the babe_ , she thought, rubbing her middle. _I shall never get a moment’s rest._ In spite of this concern, however, the thought that she would soon have two children was still one that made her smile.

Thinking of the children made her think of Ned, and thinking of Ned made her think of the surprise that he was planning. She had racked her brain, but she still had no idea what it might be. She didn’t really mind that, though. It was nice enough to know that he was planning something. She wouldn’t have thought it of Ned; he was always very good to her, but he didn’t usually do anything dramatic. Knowing that he had something special in mind and that it was all for her…it was very exciting.

Ned himself appeared at the end of the hallway then, and as Catelyn approached him, she saw that his face looked very pleased indeed. “You look cheerful about something again,” she said. “I know that I promised not to ask any more questions, Ned, but—”

“You may ask.”

Catelyn smiled. “Is it the surprise?”

“Yes, it is.” Ned offered her his arm. “And if you will come outside with me, my lady, you may see it.”

So it was something that was outside. _A horse, perhaps? Or is it something in the gardens? Or someone who has come to visit?_ Ideas ran through Catelyn’s head, but there was no time to come to any conclusion. And when she finally saw the surprise, she knew that she could have thought for a hundred years and never guessed.

It was a sept. A perfect sept. Her sept, sitting there in the grounds of Winterfell as if it had always belonged there. As if she had always belonged there.

“Do you like it?” Ned was looking at her, and there was some nervousness in his voice.

She nodded, and when she spoke, her own voice came out choked. “I love it, Ned.”

Ned took her hand. “Come see the inside.”

The inside was every bit as perfect as the outside, of course, at least as far as Catelyn could see through the tears in her eyes. “You really do like it?” Ned asked anxiously, and she almost laughed at him.

“Why do you think I am crying?” she said. “I love it, Ned…I love it so very much…” She wiped at her eyes. “What made you think of it?”

“I know how important your faith is to you,” Ned said, “and I wanted you to have a place for your prayers. A place you can share with our children, if you wish.” He pressed her hand tightly. “I wanted to make you happy.”

“Well, you have,” she said. “You make me very happy, Ned.” She kissed him then, and his answering kiss was very tender. Catelyn felt certain, now, that there was affection between them. Perhaps it was in her nature, she decided in the next minute, to be always hopeful. For now that she was certain of that affection, she began to wonder if there might not be something more.


End file.
